


The Last Goodbye

by Twitter_hikari



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Background Character Death, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Song Lyrics, Spoilers for Rome Side Quest, but not graphic, like the death is there?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 12:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19812139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twitter_hikari/pseuds/Twitter_hikari
Summary: Sasha has a final journey to finish.





	The Last Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Guys I've just binged the majority of the main story and I was ugly cryig at four am over the end of Rome. Also Billy Boyd attacked me personally with this song, so congrats. You get some Sasha feels.

_ I saw the light fade from the sky/On the wind I heard a sigh/As the snowflakes cover my fallen brother/I will say this last goodbye _

Sasha sighed, standing at a small pile of rocks out back of the house. It was cold, but she expected that was given in what she was assuming central France. The maps weren’t anywhere up to what she’d been used to, but her ‘real’ French and the Latin she’d picked up from talking more with Cicero and the gaggle of people she’d collected over the years was enough to let her read the old maps the meritocrats hadn’t destroyed. 

What was she doing again? Oh yeah, standing in front of a small pile of stones in the freezing cold of winter. “I’ve got, got a letter to send to the temple of Aphrodite in Memphis, or maybe I should give it to Apophis, he’d make sure it was kept safe right?”

No answer, but the wind picked up as she rested a hand on the top most stone, pulling back. She laughed, tugging the cloak around her, picking up the walking stick that she used now when she traveled.

“I think...I think this is my time Grizzop. And I’ve always sucked at saying goodbye’s. An’, an’ who’s to say that I won’t get to see you again?” Her voice was strong, eyes bright and unclouded, but there was a feeling. A gust of wind, sending a late season flurry of snow skating over the field, no answer from the memorial.

* * *

_ Night is now falling/So ends this day/The road is now calling/And I must away _

She was wandering, yes Sasha realized that, but if she at the ripe old age of sixty hadn’t earned the right to be a wandering crone then when did someone deserve that? A visit down to Egypt and the heat had done her some good when she’d left the letter for Hamid and Azu in the hands of the High Priestess. Whether they got the letter was a mystery, but she’d give them the benefit of the doubt. Two thousand years was a rather long time, even if there was a meritocrat listening to her tale with a very patient mien.

Leaving Egypt, she moved back north.

* * *

_ Over hill and under tree/Through lands where never light has shone/By silver streams that run down to the sea _

A tree became her most favored camping spot, the rolling hills in the north of France being familiar to her. Old ladies in their automobiles were definite years away from coming around, and she supposed she ought to be the lady with the very fast and fancy auto at this point. It took her most of the spring to reach the northern coast, looking out over the Channel with a sigh.

No fancy train station for her, nor a driftwood raft. But then, Sasha did suppose, she was no cleric of Poseidon trying to redeem himself, or a buffoon trying to win some stupid bet.

The sun glinted silver off the water, susurrations against the pebbled beach beckoning her to continue. 

* * *

_ Under cloud, beneath the stars/Over snow one winter's morn/I turn at last to paths that lead home/And though where the road then takes me/I cannot tell _

She’d kept a rather calm head, packing and planning the route she would take, down to Egypt while it was cold in the north, then north again, through Paris and to the Channel. In to England and London, see what it started as. Maybe. Who knew. She certainly didn’t.

* * *

_ We came all this way/But now comes the day/To bid you farewell _

Felix had been against her leaving, insisting that if she  _ had _ to leave, then at least take  _ some _ one with you Auntie Sasha. 

It wasn’t until Cicero stepped in, telling Felix that it was fine. Supporting Sasha when she gave him a small smile, carrying on with the packing. Daggers, most of them sheathed around herself, hidden under a long leather coat. Fire dagger in a wrist sheath, the small, goblin sized adamantine one in the other.

_ Many places I have been/Many sorrows I have seen/But I don't regret/Nor will I forget/All who took the road with me _

“Do you regret this?” Cicero stayed with her after Felix left, blustering to himself and fighting back words that he’d not mean if he said them in the heat of the argument. “Regret starting this company and staying here? For not looking for a way back?”

Sasha didn’t pause, but as her last dagger slipped into the sheath at her ankle she sat still on the bed. “Things were good for me. Didn’t think I’d ever get out totally.” Didn’t need to elaborate, given that she had told him enough that Cicero knew of her uncle, about Mister  Ceiling, the pain that had haunted her and ghosted along the old scars spread over her completely now. Her family that had fought and bled with her, breaking and reforming and leaving.

“No Cicero. I don’t regret it.”

* * *

_ To these memories I will hold/With your blessing I will go/To turn at last to paths that lead home/And though where the road then takes me/I cannot tell _

Stepped off the small trader’s boat that had made the trip across the water, depositing Sasha on the shores of what would be Britain. The trip to London was slow, her age deciding that now would be an excellent time to catch up, the scars and strains of a life of adventuring making themselves all known.

* * *

_ We came all this way/But now comes the day/To bid you farewell _

She exhaled, sitting finally on the banks of the Thames, the same river she had paddled in as a child with her cousin, but under the sky. Amazing how things came full circle. A soft laugh, because who was she kidding? Age had made her sentimental, doing a last tour.

Closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of life in the small town that was on the bank, pretending that she could hear a very chirpy Hamid bickering with Grizzop, the scent of Zolf and his sea legs, a low hum of Azu’s axes lulling her to sleep, even Bertie playing with Brutor, wrangling him into a fanciful costume.

“Ma’am?” A hand reached out, shaking the shoulder of the old woman as the sun went down. She didn’t move, stiff with the cold and the stillness of death, a smile o her face with two daggers crossed in her lap.

_ I bid you all a very fond farewell _

**Author's Note:**

> ....and a deleted bit because it didn't fit the tone.
> 
> "Sasha!" A tiny body rocketed into her side, wiry arms wrapping around her and giving her a fierce hug. Sasha gasped, crumpling slowly until she could wrap her arms around Grizzop, breathing the scent of wild and green that he carried, laughing wetly.


End file.
